


Come Out at Night

by rowofstars



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blow Jobs, Detective Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, F/M, Golden Lace, Hyperion Heights, Implied Past Prostitution, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Woven Lace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 00:27:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12782922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowofstars/pseuds/rowofstars
Summary: It's Detective Gold's birthday and Lacey decides to surprise him. Unbeta'd so I'm sure it's a hot mess.





	Come Out at Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hear me out. This basically Woven Lace. Except for personal reasons I cannot tolerate the name Weaver. It is a name associated with a person I can't stand, so to avoid having massive anxiety over a stupid name, I'm using the name Gold instead of Weaver. I hope that's okay. If people feel this isn't really Woven Lace because of that, well okay. I'll live with that. But I am doing my best to write this as a Weaver!Gold, not our usual AU Gold.
> 
> Further, I am planning this to be of a series. I have several ideas set in this verse, in varying stages of completion and taking place at different points in the timeline. It's totally open to prompts so hit me with them.

Detective Gold sipped his drink, wincing at the harsh burn that trailed down his throat. The bartender, Lacey, held up the bottle of whiskey and wagged it back and forth in question. He shook his head, and pushed his glass towards her before reaching into his jacket for his wallet.

“You usually don’t stop at one,” she said, taking the glass and refilling it with a finger of whiskey.

He’d known Lacey for a while, since his first shift in Hyperion Heights in fact, all those years ago when he was a greener than green rookie, newly transferred from Boston and feeling like he was in a whole new country all over again.

He shrugged. “Gotta work tonight. Probably best if I’m not pissed while on duty.”

Lacey raised her eyebrows and then tossed back the whiskey. Roni didn’t usually begrudge her bartenders a couple drinks during their shift, and hers was over in a couple hours anyway.

“Planning on having a bad night and needed a pick me up _before_ work?” she asked, the corner of her mouth curving into a half smile.

He smirked and slid a couple bills out of his wallet, holding them between two fingers. “Not exactly.”

She took the money and moved to the register at the end of the bar. “In any case, I hope your night’s not completely shitty.”

Gold bit back a sigh and stood. “Already is,” he said. “It’s my _fucking_ birthday.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Lacey bit her lip, nervous and excited all at once as she looked across the street at the Hyperion Heights police station. It was after eight, and she hoped there would be minimal staff around. Most of the officers should be out on patrol, she reminded herself, not hanging around the station, and certainly not loitering in Gold’s office.

He had volunteered for the night shift tonight on his birthday, which didn’t surprise her all that much. Her last two birthdays were spent working double shifts at Mr. Cluck’s. If it were anyone else, it might be strange, but not with Gold.

She could understand it, in a way, the feeling of not wanting to be home alone, of wanting to be _around_ people without having to be _with_ them. Knowing Hyperion Heights, there would likely be plenty of distractions later, anyway. Everything from bar fights to gun shots, maybe even a murder. Every new development of Belfry’s meant more people unable to afford their own neighborhood, left displaced and angry.

They’d been cut from similar cloth, her and Detective Gold, one that was hard lived on the streets, one that hated the likes of Victoria Belfry and her haughty daughter Ivy. They were so sure they were improving things, when what they were really doing was turning it into a place where there was only room for more snotty rich people and their fancy condos. No more local diners or community gardens, just more high rises and gleaming windows.

The idea of Gold spending his birthday at work, alone, didn’t sit well with her for some reason. In spite of his reputation for using less than legal means to obtain information, and occasionally doing Belfry’s dirty work, he’d always been fair to her. Sometimes it was hard to reconcile that fresh faced officer with the light brown hair and sweet smile with the greying, cynical detective she poured drinks for on the regular. But they had both changed a lot in the last eleven years, aged by lives that were still harder than they should be and a world that didn’t feel like it had a place for them.

At least she was off the street and selling fried chicken and drinks instead of her body.

Lacey shook her head and stepped off the curb, her heels clicking loudly on the pavement. She’d done a lot of crazy things in her life, but never anything like this. Marching into a police station to seduce Detective Gold was not on her plans for the day when she woke up this morning, though it had certainly been on her mind for a while. 

The station was nearly empty, just the night desk officer, Edwards, and a couple other filling out paperwork. There were noises from down one hallway as someone opened the door to the holding cells, cutting the quiet with the sharp noises of shouting and swearing. She’d had some experience with those, albeit limited, and winced as the door slammed shut on the sound of breaking glass. She blew out a breath as she approached the office at the end. The door was half open, and she stood to the side, peering in at Gold.

He sat by the dim light of his desk lamp, a case folder open in front of him. For a moment, she simply looked at him. He was a handsome man, she thought, in a different way than most. She liked the angles of his face and the crinkles by his eyes when he smirked, the leather jackets he favored and the way his jeans make his ass irresistible. Even the frown lines around his mouth right now made her want to kiss him. She licked her lips and watched him rub a hand over his face, no doubt trying to ease the exhaustion of a long day on the street and an even longer night in the office.

She had never really enjoyed sex. It was always a means to an end, whether it was a money or favors or whatever she needed. She wasn’t usually with anyone more than once, the itch or curiosity or need scratched after one, inevitably disappointing romp. Sure, she got off sometimes, but she could do that for herself with a lot less hassle. There was something about him that made her want him in a way she didn’t want anyone else. She wished she understood it, wished it would go away and stop stealing her dreams, but it only seemed to be growing.

Perhaps this would put it out of her mind.

Lacey watched Gold lean back in his chair, arching his back slightly as he tugged on the hem of his shirt. She felt a thrill of desire pulse through her as she pushed the door open, and when his eyes glanced up and met hers her heart skipped.

Gold blinked.“Lacey?”

She carefully shut the door, pushing the button on the knob to lock it, and approached him. Her voice was lower and softer than usual as she spoke. “Were you expecting someone else?”

His eyes narrowed, looking her up and down, and taking in her short black dress and tall heels. She'd changed since he saw her at the bar earlier. He flipped the case file closed. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

A slight smile spread over his face at the sight of her, and his hand flexed on the arm of his chair. Her presence always put him on edge, always made him aware of her. It wasn’t unpleasant, but he couldn’t afford distractions like Lacey in his line of work, professional and otherwise.

He licked his lips. “What can I do for you, Miss French?”

Lacey smirked. He was the only one who called her that. It felt so polite and proper, like something out of one of those period romance books she’d totally deny reading, and so unlike either of them.

“Brought you a present,” she said, reaching in her oversize handbag to pull out a brown paper sack. The neck of a bottle stuck up out of the top, leaving no mystery as to its contents. “Happy birthday, Detective.”

Gold looked at her sideways and reached for the bottle, sliding the useless paper bag off. “Red label?” he questioned, his lips twitching and curving into a grin. “Well, I must have been a very good boy this year.”

Lacey laughed and bit her lip, moving around to perch on the corner of his desk. “Oh, I doubt that very much, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t celebrate your birthday.”

He bent to retrieve the two glasses he kept in a bottom drawer next to a bottle of cheap single malt. He twisted open the bottle and poured some into each of the glasses before handing one to Lacey. She wanted something, she almost always did, and he hoped she’d hang around long enough for him to find out.

“Cheers,” she said, smiling, and clinked her glass against his.

Lacey took a small taste of hers as she watched Gold toss his back in one swallow. The low noise of satisfaction he made had her squeezing her legs together. She sipped a little more and set the glass aside, sliding off the desk and moving a little closer.

Gold pushed back from the desk as she moved, glancing up at her face. Her eyes were heavy lidded and her tongue was dragging slowly over her bottom lip, catching a small drop of the scotch. His breath caught and he made to get up, but was stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder.

She leaned down, brushing her lips over his briefly and delighting in the vibration of his happy hum against her lips. Then she pulled away, and pushed him back, chair and all, making space for herself between him and the desk.

“What are you -?” He looked confused as she shook her head and knelt before him, her hands on his knees.

Gold swallowed and stared down at her, confused and definitely aroused. He leaned forward, ready to pull her up to feet again before anything more could happen. “Stop, come on, Lace.”

She sat up on her knees and pressed a firm kiss to his lips. He made a noise and she caught his bottom lip in hers, nipping lightly. “What’s wrong, Gold? You don’t want me to give you the rest of your present?”

She ran her fingernail down the zipper of his jeans, the tip clicking against it, and he fought to stay still. “What do you want, Lacey?”

“You,” she whispered, her voice shaky with nerves and excitement.

Then Lacey kissed him again, with more urgency and heat, her mouth soft and slick. Gold groaned and buried his hands in her hair, holding her close. It was an awkward angle, but he didn’t care. No matter what else happened, he doubted he would never be over the sensation of kissing Lacey French.

Lacey dipped her tongue into his mouth, stroking over the roof of his mouth and over his own searching tongue. He tasted like the scotch, but sweet too, and she moaned as he pulled her up into his lap. She let her hand to drift down over his chest, her fingers tripping over the buttons of his shirt. He shivered under her touch, and she pulled her mouth away, setting to work on his neck. 

“I’ve a confession to make, Detective,” she said, her words throaty and muffled against his skin. 

Gold let his hands wander over her shoulder, fingering the thin strap of her dress, and then down to stroke the warm skin of her throat and collarbone. “Well, lucky for you, you’re in a police station, Miss French, and I’m more than qualified to take your statement.”

She liked the way his words reverberated against her lips as she kissed his neck, and the rough scratch of his stubble. He made to kiss her again, but she sat back on her heels, looking down at him, coyly. Then she slid back down to the floor, up on her knees, her hands dancing over his thighs. She moved them down over his knees, to the back of his calves and up again, avoiding the obvious ridge in the front of his jeans.

Gold was tense and still in the chair, following every movement of her hands with his eyes. Ragged breath moved his chest and his hands clenched the arms of the chair. His head was spinning with what was happening. They’d had a drunken kiss one night outside Roni’s more than a year ago, and while nothing more had ever come of it, it had never been far from his mind. Now she was here, in the police station no less, on her knees about to do god knows what to him, a fantasy come to life.

He knew there had to be some reason that wasn’t his birthday. Lacey had a past, a reputation, the same as him. They were too alike in that way. He definitely wanted her, but here on his turf, in his station, that wasn’t something he expected. There were cameras in the halls, none with a view into his office, but there implications were often enough to be used against someone.

“Lacey,” he sighed, sagging back in the chair, helpless and willing to let her do whatever she wanted.

Finally, her fingers moved up and played with the belt of his trousers, pulling the warm leather out from its buckle. Her palm pushed against his still-clothed erection, and he hissed in pleasure, eyes shutting tight. “ _Fuck._ ”

Lacey grinned and pulled his zipper down, slowly. “Look at me.”

His eyes blinked open at her command, watching as she reached in and finally freed him, wrapping her wonderful fingers around his cock. He was hot and heavy in her hand, tongue licking his lips in anticipation as he all but shook in the chair. Knuckles went white from pressure as he gripped the arms, and he clenched his jaw shut as she started stroking her hand up and down. 

Her thumb brushed over the sensitive head, catching a bit of fluid at the tip, and she smirked. “Should I keep going?”

Gold twitched, bucking his hips and pushing up into her hand. “ _Yes_ ,” he hissed. “Bloody hell, _yes_.”

His enthusiastic response made her smile, and she lowered her head, taking him just inside her lips. At the feel of her warm, wet mouth enveloping him, Gold keened, trying to not thrust into her mouth. His grip on the chair tightened and he could think of nothing else except _Lacey Lacey Lacey_. She touched her tongue to him, took him deeper, and he widened his legs, sinking down in the hopes of getting more of her. He looked down with heavy, glazed eyes and watched as her mouth moved over him, saliva dripping down his shaft and over her hand. Everything was slick and hot and dizzying. The world narrowed to the pulled of her lips, the drag of her tongue, and the tight grip of her fingers. He bit down on his lip and tasted blood, barely holding in a groan.

With a small pop, Lacey pulled her mouth from him and looked up at him, grinning. Her hand stroked him as she spoke, letting her lips brush the swollen, red tip. “Don’t hold back, baby. I want to hear you and feel you.”

She went back to work on him, using the broadside of her tongue to sweep up the underside of his cock, and flick against the tip, before swirling back down the shaft. She bobbed her head in time with his shallow thrusts, swallowing down as much of his length as she could. The taste was far from unpleasant - musky, salty, warm - and he smelled good too. 

His hand slipped into her hair as he exhaled a low, quiet moan, wishing he could give her what she wanted and let her know how amazing she felt, tell her all the filthy things he wanted to do to her. He guided her head, speeding up her rhythm and stroking over neck. The soft glow of his desk lamp bathed them in a warm light, and he looked down at Lacey kneeling between his legs, her mouth hollowing and sucking around him, her eyes alternating between closing tight and looking up at him.

He grunted as she took him all the way down, her nose pressing against his him as her throat flexed. It felt incredible, _she_ was incredible, and it him like a bullet; Lacey’s hot mouth on his cock, the fact that she wanted to do _this_ , wanted _him_ for some strange reason. At any moment someone could walk in and see Lacey French sucking him off, and very base part of him wanted it to happen. He could keep control that way, wouldn’t owe her any favors, wouldn’t let her be used against him.

Lacey pressed her legs together, shifting to give herself a little of the friction and pleasure she craved. If he felt this good in her hands and her mouth, she could only imagine how amazing it would be to have him deep inside her. She might have to see about that sometime, if he was game. It seemed like right now he was willing to do just about anything.

Gold couldn’t help the way his hips jerked upwards, picking up speed to match the timing of her bobbing head. Tension was building in his gut, a tingly mounting pleasure that made it feel like the room was spinning. His hold on her hair tightened and he tried to pull her off of him, but she gave him a quick look that made him stop. Her red lips stretched around him as her tongue rolled deliciously, and he gasped for breath, heart slamming into his ribs. 

“Lace, _fuck_ , ’m gonna–,” 

She kept sucking him, her fingers shifting down to press at the base of his shaft, holding him at the edge, until she moaned and pulled up at the same time. The reverberation pushed him over the edge and he came in her mouth in warm spurts, pulsing against her tongue.

Lacey swallowed every drop, humming happily and licking at the tip. When she felt him softening between her lips, she let him go with a wet pop, and sat back on her heels. The look on Gold’s face was worth it, but before she could do anything, he was grasping for her, pulling her up and into his lap to bury his face in her neck. He licked and nipped at the exposed skin of her chest, collarbones, and neck before finally slanting his mouth over hers.

His tongue plunged into her mouth, chasing after his own taste, eager to know what their flavors tasted like together. She clung to him and returned the kiss with equal fervor, until his fingers tugged her hair and she pulled away.

She grinned down at him, the thumb that had just been squeezing his cock now brushing his kiss swollen bottom lip. He looked positively debauched, and she reveled in it. For once she had the upper hand.

He shook his head, his brain trying to catch up to what had happened. “What was all that for?”

Lacey shrugged and gave him a half smile. “It was your birthday,” she said simply. Then she slid off his lap, feeling self conscious as she brushed the dust from her knees and smoothed down her dress. “I wanted to.”

A soft _hmm_ was his only reply as he tucked himself back into his jeans. He swallowed, steeling himself for what he had to do.

“Well, while I appreciate the scotch and the blow job, I don’t think my cock is that irresistible.” He eyed her and leaned back in his chair. “So what’s this really about?”

She frowned down at him and crossed her arms. “What the _fuck_ do you mean, Gold?”

Gold scoffed and gave the side of her ass a mild slap to move her out of the way as he scooted his chair back up to his desk. “Just don’t go thinking this is gonna be a regular thing.”

He reopened the case file he’d been looking at before she came in, eyes scanning the pages, feigning disinterest. In his lap his hand clenched as he tried to control his breathing. 

_No attachment. No risk._

The mantra repeated itself over and over as he waited for Lacey to scream at him or leave.

She snorted out a humorless laugh, and shook her head. Then she picked up her drink glass, swirling the scotch that was left in it. She waited for Gold to look up at her, and then up ended the liquid over the folder on his desk, splattering his shirt and hands in the process.

He pushed back abruptly, mouth hanging open in shock.

“ _Fuck you_ , Detective,” she spat, and then turned on her heel and walked out.

The door to his office slammed shut behind her, rattling the window. Gold sagged in his seat and ran a hand over his face, scowling. He was wondering how he was ever going to sit in his chair and not think of Lacey’s mouth on his dick, when Rogers walked in.

“Was that Lacey French?” Rogers asked, holding out a sheet from one of those pink message pads.

Gold glared up at him. “Mind your business, Rogers.”

“You alright, mate?” Rogers asked, frowning down at the desk and the puddle of spilled scotch.

“ _Fine_ ,” he grumbled, snatching the page from Rogers’s outstretched hand. “Now what’s this?”

Rogers put his hands on his hips and gave him a withered look. “Your friend Tilly got picked up for trespassing at one of Belfry’s warehouses down by the docks. She was off her meds and all worked up about something, so the boys took a look around, and one of the doors was open…”

He swore under his breath, wishing the newly promoted detective would just get to the fucking point. “ _And?_ ”

The other man’s expression turned deadly serious. “They found a body inside.”

Gold looked down at the note in his hands, lips curving into a sly smile. “Well, seems the night’s finally getting interesting.”

Hours later, when he was staring at blood spatter on a cinder block wall, he could still smell Lacey’s perfume on his clothes. He scowled and looked down at the floor where a sticky puddle of blood was slowly drying.

_No attachment. No risk._


End file.
